


Hot for Teacher

by CastellanGarak



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, and perhaps raised when he starts sleepin with others, bc Garak has Morals and Ethics in this verse in this situation, but again they don't get together until he graduates, but still rated T for Dukat's horny on main thoughts, idk we'll see, oh also Dukat is 20 at start of fic, so age gap but legal, so these two don't get together until Dukat graduates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/pseuds/CastellanGarak
Summary: Recent divorcé and father Elim Garak has no idea why the young, attractive heir to the Dukat empire is so fixated on a fat, middle aged man such as himself, but he really doesn't need this right now. Getting involved with a student is asking for a law suit at the best of times, but when the student in question has an entire team of lawyers who make more money in a single day than you do in an entire year...Let's just say Professor Garak really hopes Dukat gets over... whatever this is, soon. He did not work his way up to tenure position of Cardassia's most prestigious university, only to throw it away over a stupid fling. Plus he has morals! Ethics!Featuring: ex-wife Palandine (and her new girlfriend slash Garak's co-worker Professor Natima Lang), young daughter Kel, shady business practices from Daddy Dukat, and somehow both in the friend zone and friends with benefits Damar.





	Hot for Teacher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mountainashtree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mountainashtree/gifts).



> Thank you to my wonderful army of betas for such good & speedy work.

Dukat swaggers into the classroom, a scowl twisting his handsome face. He had put off this class longer than he should, considering he is now 20, and most of his peers knock their gen eds (the non major courses every student is required to take in order to graduate) off first thing. So he’s in a classroom surrounded by freshmen, who are sure to be an annoyance. They’re also mostly women, this being a science course. Dukat knows this is a risky decision as a male (the superior condescension of intellectual women never failed to inflame him). But never let it be said that Skrain Dukat backs away from a challenge. Plus, it was a choice between this and psychiatry, and like fuck Dukat would lower himself to _that_.

Still though, in the case that the class _does_ manage to get the better of Dukat, he could always use Daddy’s money to buy the A. He knows _Daddy Dearest_ would just kill him if he ruined his perfect 4.0 GPA.

“No idiot son of mine will inherit the company I built from the ground up. If you disappoint me, you’re on your own,” is what runs through Dukat’s head whenever he can’t quite muster up the motivation to push himself harder. Anything is better than being left poor, disgraced, and disinherited. 

But Dukat can’t afford to waste _too_ much of his precious time on a class that doesn’t even count towards his major. Not when he has so many better, more important uses for his time. Like networking. He was, of course, already born into enough connections to keep the business going, but adding more could only help. Especially if he wanted Dukat Industries to continuously prosper. You never knew who could wind up an important ally or investor in the future.

Dukat hitches his messenger bag higher up his shoulder, then finds a seat in the back row. Everyone knows the back row is where you go when you want to escape the Professor’s notice. Dukat is a bit too addicted to texting during class, and is hoping back here the Professor won’t notice him doing it.

Dukat’s already texting one-handedly, and scanning the room for likely lackeys with the rest of his attention. If he could persuade some pliable, easy-to-manipulate minion to do his homework for him, then he won’t even have to buy the A. 

After a quick perusal of the room, he spots several likely prospects, and makes a note to approach them at his leisure. He’s suddenly thankful they’re all freshmen. Dukat finds them more malleable, naive, eager to please. Not to mention more likely to be starstruck by his fame, power, and wealth.

Some of his peers, Skrain knows, resent the attention it gets them, because then it’s sometimes difficult to tell whether friends want you for you, or for what you can provide them. This does not tend to bother Skrain overmuch. Lackeys and hangers-on do have their uses, afterall. It’s a symbiotic relationship, rather than the parasitic one his peers seem to view it as.

Others seem to want to be treated as though they weren’t rich. Annoying really. Why would anyone want to be treated as though they were less than they truly were? Why, for example, should he have to clean up after himself, when there are maids to do it? His fraternity mates must be out of their minds to kick him out as they did. 

It’s not _Skrain’s_ fault his father is putting him in this situation for literally no reason. Campus is halfway across the continent from his family manor, so living there would be of course out of the question, but Skrain expected his father to at least pay for a house or flat in the city, staffed with a servant or two, to keep him in his accustomed manner of living. 

But no, his father, for no reason Skrain can determine, has seen fit to not include those necessary services. So he gave Skrain just enough money to afford student housing on campus (plus bills and food), but not enough to keep help. Skrain has no idea what his father was thinking. _When_ will he ever need these skills in his life?? He was born rich, has grown up rich, will live his entire life rich, and then he’ll die rich. This little exercise is both useless and pointless, and Skrain can only assume Procal is punishing him for something. 

But back to the matter at hand, Skrain’s fraternity brothers expecting him to lower himself to cleaning, housework, and chores is not only insulting and beneath him, it’s unrealistic and unfair. 

And Skrain himself had tried to be fair! He’d be more than happy to pay for servants, if only his father had not cruelly cut his stipend. He’d tried to bribe his frat brothers into taking care of everything for a not unreasonable compensation, but considering the frat is already for the ridiculously rich, none of them had needed the money, and so had declined his generous offer.

So, with no other option, Skrain had put in an advertisement over the Net for a roommate, for what he thought was a steal on their part. They’d get to stay at a perfectly good flat entirely for free (including rent, utility/bills, food cost), all they had to do in exchange was all the cleaning, cooking, shopping, and whatever unforeseen miscellaneous tasks that crop up during their cohabitation. Dukat hopes he’s not being unwisely generous, but desperate times call for desperate measures..

So far, he’d only gotten trolls, calling him ‘rich,’ ‘spoilt,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘entitled’ as though he wasn’t the hardest working person ever. Didn’t he do networking, assignments, and extracurricular studies everyday? Didn’t he go to his classes like a diligent student? His blood boils as he thinks of those lowborn bastards, his anger not even cooling as his mind shifts to the sexual propositions, marriage proposals, and vultures that he had known would follow such a generous offer (annoyance even spiking a bit, at what they must think of him. He’s not a _fucking_ moron, and would obviously sign a damned prenup.) 

But amongst all the unusable crap, he’d found what appeared the ideal candidate: a freshman by the name of Corat Damar. A city boy who comes from a working class family. He has no connections of significance, and no money to speak of. Scholarship kid, clearly, and so free room and board is not an opportunity he’d pass up.

And his personality is perfect, too. Just enough hero worship that he can easily be controlled/manipulated, but not to the levels of creepy obsession, or even worse, those hangers on who just want to use you. Damar clearly has just the “what can I do for you” rather than the “what can you do for me” mindset that Dukat usually doesn’t mind but really doesn’t need as part of this arrangement. 

A minor commotion draws Skrain out of his reverie: the sound of someone clumsily fumbling with a tupperware (probably still hungover from last night. That, or just not fully awake. 8 AM classes are, after all, The Devil.) Once he gets it open, the mouth-watering smell of eggs and nuts fills the room, and Skrain’s stomach rumbles. Dukat turns his gaze back to his PADD so that he can type out a command for Damar to have breakfast ready when he gets back from class. Damar is a surprisingly talented cook, and Skrain left him a list of favorites shortly after they had finalized the move. He’d also offered to pay for cooking lessons if so required, but Corat had apparently grown up an elder sibling, and had to help raise the younger ones, so he’d already had a lot of the skills Dukat needed for the perfect roommate.

Damar sends a text acknowledging the command, and Dukat puts his PADD away. He wanted to continue texting, but someone fine as all hell had just walked in, and this clearly requires Dukat’s _full_ attention. The man walks up to the podium and turns on the holoprojector. Dukat’s mouth drops open. That smoking hot dude is the _Professor_ ?! Why on _Cardassia_ hadn’t he had the chili pepper on his ratemyprofessor webpage?! Dukat could have missed out on this, if he’d had his pick of classes (for he would never sign up for an 8 AM class of his own volition), but since he’d dragged his feet so much on picking a course, all the more desirable time slots had already filled up, and this was the only remaining option.

But more importantly, fuck buying the A, with a teacher _this_ smoking hot, he’d much rather sleep his way to success. The guy doesn’t look like he needs the money, anyway, not with that designer watch he’s sporting. Dukat nods with approval, admiring his outfit. Hopefully his taste in bed partners is just as good. 

Dukat looks around to see if anybody else is noticing this 10 out of fucking 10, but nobody else seems to be paying attention; either yawning into their to-go cups of tea, or boredly scrolling through their SpaceBook feeds. 

_Their loss. More for me, then,_ Dukat thinks. Suddenly, he regrets sitting in the back, because the view he’s getting as the prof bends over to put down his briefcase is probably _much_ better up close. 

Dukat’s mouth waters, his belly tingles. And then his attention is pulled back to the man’s (utterly gorgeous) face as he turns back to the podium, clears his throat, and introduces himself, mic sending his amplified voice through every corner of the room, sensually caressing Dukat’s ears. A shiver goes through him as two thoughts fill his head almost simultaneously: 

  1. So his name is Garak, huh? I can definitely imagine moaning that in bed (or, preferably, across his office desk), and
  2. God, do I wanna hear that silky voice moan _my_ name in bed. 



...or better yet, murmuring dirty nothings into my ear. Dukat whimpers at the thought, and doesn’t notice the weird look the person sitting nearby shoots him. Then Professor Garak begins to go over the syllabus, but Dukat barely pays attention, instead focusing on the way Garak’s lips form the words, and imagining how they’d look wrapped around his cock. 

He whimpers again, beginning to slick up, and his scent begins to fill the room. Garak freezes, his nostrils flare. He chokes to a stop mid-word, ridges darkening in an embarrassed blush. After a pause, he clears his throat and says, “Please have courtesy for others, and either gain control over yourself, or leave my classroom.”

“Yeah, stop watching porn back there!” Someone shouts from the front row, to a round of snickers. 

Unfortunately, this only serves to make Dukat even hotter. _What an inconvenient time to discover a humiliation kink_ , Dukat thinks glumly. 

The increase of his pheromones does not go unnoticed, and a small smirk appears at the corner of Garak’s mouth. “As… amusing, as this is,” he purrs, “I’m afraid I really must insist. Decorum is highly prized in this institution, and I’ll have you conduct yourselves accordingly.”

With a final whimper, Dukat gathers his things with fumbling hands, and flees the room, trying his best to ignore the stifled gasps as his classmates realize the identity of the mystery pervert. He certainly doesn’t see the professor’s mouth form an ‘o’ of shock, pause, then swallow visibly, as if his mouth were dry. 

After the doors slide shut behind Dukat, Garak manages to compose himself, and finishes his lecture.

***

Garak looks up, startled, as his office doors slide open. He usually never gets office visits on the first day of a semester, but since his syllabus says Mondays at 5 are his office hours, he stubbornly shows up every Monday at 5. 

Skrain Dukat swaggers in, smirk firmly in place, tosses his bag carelessly to the floor and then flops into the chair across from Garak’s desk, so he can sit (without being invited to, naturally. Or even into the room, for that matter).

Dukat sprawls across the chair in the most laissez-fair manner Garak has ever seen, right leg thrown over the arm of the chair, the other tucked underneath himself. He props his elbow on his thigh, and rests his chin in his hand, cradling his head at an angle. 

He smiles in what Garak can only describe as a predatory manner, straight, white teeth on full display, and waits expectantly.

“Can I… help you?” Garak asks in a bored voice, eyeridge raised. But inside, he’s thrown. This is the oddest first meeting he has ever had in here (and the first impression this morning was a thing of wonder, too...)

Dukat leans forward a bit, placing a hand on Garak’s desk. Garak twitches. He keeps that thing polished to a gleam, and if this boy leaves smudges of fingertips, Garak will be _very_ displeased. 

“Just wanted to catch up on what I missed earlier,” Dukat says.

Garak relaxes, eased. “Yes, well, I did assign some homework-”

“I’m sure we won’t be needing to bother with that, hmmm?” Dukat asks, rudely cutting Garak off.

“I… beg your pardon,” Garak bites out, blinking in surprise.

“Well, there’s just not much need for a business major--especially the scion of the Dukat empire--to learn science, is there?”

Garak scowls. “If you want an exemption, speak with the academic advisor, I’m not in charge of--”

“Oh, there’s no need for that either,” Dukat interjects, interrupting once more. Garak thinks less and less of this boy, the more time passes. “I’m sure we can settle this between the two of us, don’t you?” he purrs, rubbing an absent circle into Garak’s desk. He’s definitely leaving a smudge. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Garak says hesitantly. 

“Just that I’m open to an… alternative arrangement,” Dukat says. He pauses to give Garak a significant look, then takes a moment to bring his free hand (previously flopped carelessly over his tucked in leg) to his tie, which he loosens one-handed. He lets out a puff of air as he faces brief resistance, but is finally able to undo it enough that he can get to the top button, which he opens, allowing his chula to peak out just a bit. 

Garak finds his eyes irresistibly drawn down to it. He looks up in time to see Dukat smirk at him, then bite his lip as he runs his finger from the cloth of his tie, to his chest spoon, which he then rubs in a, frankly, indecent manner. 

Garak sighs, and just barely manages to not roll his eyes. This is not the first time this has happened to him, but it’s the first time it was done _quite_ so gracelessly. Garak debates asking again what the man wants, but doesn’t really want to interrupt a clearly rehearsed approach, in fear it’ll prolong the proceedings (if Dukat loses his footing and needs to start over).

So instead, Garak puts down his padd, leaning back in his chair, and waits, eyeridge raised.

After an awkward silence, Dukat lets his hand fall from his chest spoon, and looks sheepishly away as he runs a hand through his hair, then meets Garak’s eyes boldly, heat rising uncontrollably to his face. “Look, dude, I can’t make this any clearer.” 

Garak snorts. “And I thought my disinterest was equally clear.”

“Awww, you’re no fun,” Dukat says with a pout, beginning to re-button his shirt, gathering his dignity back around him. “Well,” he says with a sigh, “if you won’t accept sex, will you accept money?”

“I’ll accept studying and effort! If you require assistance, I’ll gladly go over the material with you, and our campus provides free tutoring. Now, the homework for the day can be found on the course’s website. If you have any questions, you may return.”

“I do have one other question.”

“Oh?”

“Would you like to grab dinner?” Dukat asks with a cocky smirk.

Garak’s eyes narrow. “Get out of my office,” he hisses.

Dukat pouts once more. “Awww, but--”

“OUT!” Garak shouts, pointing at the door.

Dukat shrugs philosophically, then stands up, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothing. He pauses, braces a hand against Garak’s desk, and leans in. “I’ll get you one day, my little chili pepper,” he whispers into the professor’s ear, then grabs his bag and exits the office, leaving a stunned Garak in his wake.

 _What on Cardassia does he mean by chili pepper?!?_ Garak thinks, a touch frantically. If that’s a pet name, it’s not one he’s ever come across before. Maybe it’s a younger generation thing? Garak sighs, feeling old and out of touch with the kids he’s meant to teach. 


End file.
